


that which survives.

by Trekkele



Series: As Seen On Tumblr [14]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Outsiders POV, Plot relevant oc’s, Tarsus IV, consider that a warning, implied major character death, open ended ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekkele/pseuds/Trekkele
Summary: Prompt: lupanymeria:You know what's a horrible George Kirk/James Kirk parallel? Jim dying on Tarsus so that his kids can survive.Followed by: Though that's not as painful as a delayed reveal of Kodos per Videolog wherein everything that went wrong on Tarsus was painstakingly recorded by a kid that in the end turns out to be a dead hero's son.(Full prompt and post on tumblr)
Series: As Seen On Tumblr [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1030589
Comments: 21
Kudos: 243





	that which survives.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.

They find the recorder in the burnt out husk of what might have been the center of town. It’s a child’s toy, decorated with holographic stickers and a ‘StarFleets Junior Division’ tag, red varnish scratched and fading into patches.

It’s been weeks since they arrived. The careful cataloging, the shaky hands that refuse to drop what might very well be the only existing proof of lives lived, the ache every night as they mark off another name, another loss...they don’t pretend it isn’t getting to them.

They used to study dead civilizations, not murdered ones.

There’s no one else though, so they zip their boots up and sit closer than necessary when the days get too long. There’s no one else, so they do it.

Zev fiddles with the wiring, connecting the tiny synth-metal recorder to the holo-table. There’s the faintest flash of light as it turns on, and then he’s there. Bright eyed and grinning, running as he dials the sound up. It’s like watching a movie, or maybe like reading someone’s diary.

“Hey Ma! Aunt Lisa gave me this old recorder she used to use for notes, said she’ll upload the vids and send it to you. Like a log!” He makes a serious face, eyes laughing even as he frowns and deepens his voice, “Lieutenants Log, Stardate 4.60.075. Captain Lisa has decided to plant summer squash, of the European earth variety. Her second in command strongly advised against this, and keeps grumbling about how he’s not gonna eat zucchini bread for six damn months again. I, for one, look forward to planting tomatoes again. The seedlings are so cute! I can’t wait to show thus thing ti Thomas he’s gonna think it’s so solar! Lieutenant Jimmy, out!” The kid laughs as the recording cuts off, rolling blue grass behind him. 

“Play the next one.” He barely heard Trina over his shoulder, too busy doing math in his head. 4.60 was one week before the first round up.

“Lieutenants Log, stardate 4.65. I didn’t forget, I promise! But I dropped the recorder into my bag and it was under some essay that wasn’t due till today Mom.” The screen adjusts, and they can see the blonde head bent over a padd, scribbling something even as he spoke to the recorder. “Aunt - I mean, Captain Lisa said that everything’s fine, but the adults keep whispering and the government changed over again,” he shoots an exasperated look at the camera, “which of course I know, I pay attention to things that aren't old engines too, you know. Anyways I’m going to attach this modified engine for the corvette and tell me if you think it’ll start or just blow up again. Jimmy out.”

“Stardate 4.67. The Ri’Eit’s, the vulcan reawakening next door are packing up. I don’t know where they plan on going but they kept speaking vulkhansu and the kids Surkin won’t tell me. Can vulcans get scared?” He was huddled under a blanket, flashlight pointing at his chin and the camera angled a little too left. “I think I’ll try to send these tomorrow. I’ll attach pictures of the garden, the tomatoes really are cute.”

“Stardate 4.68. The transmission didn’t go through. Lisa won’t tell me anything about it, but she’s fiddling in the shed.” The sky is a brilliant purple, and the camera pans over a garden. “I don’t think the connection was the problem Mom.” There’s a long pause, and the camera zooms in on some curling vines. “I’m going to set up an automatic repeating message Mom. You’ll get it won’t you?”

“Stardate 4.69.” It’s dark, wherever the kid is, and there’s rustling as he runs. “I have six kids following me and about seventeen ‘government officials’ on my trail. Government my ass. Hired thugs probably.” The camera adjusts to the dark, and they can see hollowed eyes and children, huddled together as they run. At least one of them isn’t human. “There’s some kind of mistake, I know there is, but I can’t go back and check on them, Mom, I don’t know where they are and I can’t go back...” the camera cuts out, but the voice recording is still playing. “You better get here soon Mom. I don’t think I know what to do.”

The screen brightens, and the boy, Jimmy, looks directly at the camera. There’s something missing in his wide eyed stare, in the hollow curve of his cheek, “Stardate 4.70. I snuck back to the square. There wasn’t a mistake. I can’t take them back.” He pauses, presses his lips in a thin line. “I guess I’m the captain now. There’s food in the old shed, down by the storage farms. Thomas should be fast enough to help. Mission set for pre-dawn, Jimmy out.”

He can hear Trina frantically paging through the records they’d pieced together. There had been a record of ‘goods stolen, suspected insurgents, shed 3B, west storage farm’. They’d spent  _ days _ trying to find a group of rebels who’d operated in the western area. It had been children.

_ Children _ . 

“Stardate 4.71. So we now have dried food for about two weeks, if we ration right. And some medication, in case those cuts on Selki don’t heal ok.” He pauses, glaring at something off camera. “I wanted to burn the rest of it down. All of what we couldn’t take, just burn it down. I don’t know if that makes me as bad as them, starving other people on purpose.”

“Stardate 4.72. We had to move camps. Don’t know if they found us or not, but I don’t want to risk it. We can’t all run fast enough to risk them coming back.”

“Stardate 4.72. Passed a patrol. Messed with their engines, on those fancy hoverbikes they use. Stupid, since they’re so loud, but that works well for us. Pretty sure the explosions will take out half the street when they park.” His cheeks are hollowed out, face all angles where it had been freckled and round less then two weeks ago. “I decided I don’t care, if it makes me like them, Mom. Because if there’s someone like that on our side, then at least my kids will be alive.” He pauses, chewing on his bottom lip. “I don’t think it’s the same even then.”

“Stardate 4.73. Selki’s cuts healed up, but it was touch and go for a while there, since alkorian skin is so tough, but the medicine we have worked.” He swallows, licking his cracked lips and blinking slow. “The recorder is dying Ma. I know what you’re thinking Ma, it’s solar powered right? But Ma, we don’t really go out in the sun anymore. I miss the sun Mama. I miss being warm.” He whispers, like a confession, like a secret, eyes slipping shut.

“Stardate 4.76. Moved camp again. Found a cave behind some vines, accidentally. I think we can stay here a while. Everyone’s doing good, I killed a jackalope - I swear those are real here, tell Sam I said so! And stripped the meat before we broke camp. If I’m careful and cure it right, that'll up the food we have. Thomas is whittling a chess set out of wood.”

“Stardate 4.79. Found a stream about somewhat north of here. Fresh water is good, and there are berries growing on the banks. Trahj about cried when we showed them. Thomas thinks he beat me at chess. He doesn’t know I let him win, so don’t tell him. Passed another patrol. Fucked with the bikes again.”

“Stardate 4.82.” The camera pans over a pile of mostly sleeping children, all in tattered clothes stained with dust. “Hey Ma, time to meet the grankids, all six of them. Never thought I’d beat Sammy to it, didja? Thomas is the ugly looking one against the wall,” a boy with brown hair and a tired, lopsided smile stuck out his tongue at the camera. “On his left is Trahj, and their sibling, Surkin. They’re going to be librarians when they grow up, and have a greenhouse dedicated to rare plants. On the other side, hugging his knees, is Frehja, who made me promise to tell you that she’s read all your papers and wants to ask you about the mid warp repair theory you wrote about. And that’s Dren’lin’Amorpokep. We call him Kepi. He’s going to be a doctor, and also a unicorn, because I’m bad at telling fairy tales and those don’t exist on his home planet. You’ll help me figure something out tho, right? Oh yeah and that’s Thomas, who’s going to revolutionize bio-engineering if he stops being gross for long enough.” 

The camera flips as Thomas croaks out a tinny laugh, throwing his hand up in a rude gesture. 

“And this is Selki. Say hi to grandma Selki!” The green haired girl coos something in alkorian, and then whispers Hi, cuddling into Jimmy's neck. He rubs her back, still chatting at the camera, “I told them about you, Mom, about what you do. I told them you’re coming for us. Probably steal a starship to do it.” He pauses, shushing Selki with a half sung lullaby. “Because you are coming. You promised you’d come, and Kirks keep their promises, right? I just...I might need you to hurry up some Mama, if that’s ok.”

The screen cuts black, and there’s only static. Solken, as frantic as he’s ever seen her, fiddles with the holo-port, and suddenly there’s sound. A voice, soft over the sound of muffled screams and heavy breathing, smooth as honey over rocks - sweet until the gravel gets stuck in your teeth. It sounds familiar. 

“James. James, my dear boy, why did you think to run?”

“Don’t you touch them, don’t touch them you fucker, don’t you  _ fucking touch them how dare  _ -“ a sound like flint striking stone, and the boy stops screaming. 

“James Tiberius Kirk. What a pity boy. You could have been so much more.”

Zev blinks, staring at the others over the holo-table. “That can’t be it.” “Not that’s it, the recorder dies after this-“ “No that  _ can’t be check again _ -“

But the recorder, unassuming in it’s red case and peeling stickers, is empty. There’s nothing more for it to say. 


End file.
